Warning
by Nightvowl
Summary: Tara and Pam's first holiday with Nola is full of surprises.
1. This Christmas

**Author: **NightVowl

**Title: **Warning

**Pairing**: Pam/Tara

**Rating**: T (cause Pam be cursin')

**Synopsis**: Tara and Pam's first holiday with Nola is full of surprises.

**Disclaimers: **Ion own nuffin'

**Chello:**This was supposed to be a holiday gift to you guys when I got Blu's message some months back, but I didn't have the time (or motivation, I suppose) to do it properly. Well, precisely two million years later, I still don't have the time… but Imma try to quickly finish it anyway. Same universe, you know the deal. No extreme jumps in the timeline. Takes place a few weeks after where "Baby" left off. Thanks for all of the reviews on that story, by the way, if I didn't thank you personally. I dig hearing from all of you. This was going to be a cheap and cheery little one-shot a few months ago, but I'll make it a two-parter for reasons. Props to Biggie for the title. Enjoy!

**Warning**

Carefully climbing atop her target, a shadowy figure clad in black produced a ridged blade that shimmered beneath a full moon's light. There would be many who would want her dead for what she was about to do. The thought bought a wry smile to her face. It was no matter. She was no stranger to human indignation.

Wasting little time, she carved her target mercilessly, leaving smatterings of red to pool around her feet. The deed was done.

Leaping off an iron perch, the dark figure plummeted to street below with the velocity of an anvil only to land with a feather's grace. Lightly tapping a button on the small remote in her hand, she unleashed an explosion of light.

Voices rang out immediately, sounding off in awe and horror.

"It's terrific!"

"It's…terribly festive, isn't it?"

"Terribly American, more like."

"It's tacky. Tara, take it down," Pam demanded drolly, her wintery blue eyes taking in the colorful calamity that Tara had made of their home.

Long white lights imitating melting icicles were draped neatly in carefully laid horizontal lines on the townhouse's first and fifth stories, while an enumerable number of tiny colorful bulbs speckling the structure flickered in tune with a cheery midi rendition of "This Christmas".

On the terrace stood a six-foot tall, wood sculpture of a mahogany, salt and pepper bearded Santa Claus.

"Fanta," Nola half questioned and half asserted in her amusement.

"Yeah, baby girl, It's Fanta," Tara reassured her, unable to keep from grinning.

It was as though the girl's excitement was infectious. Never before had the cynical vampire gotten so swept up in the holiday spirit.

As a human child, the Louisianan was never moved by Christmas. While other kids eagerly awaited Christmas throughout the year, Tara dreaded the day that would inevitably begin with a long lecture about the biblical origins of the holiday and end with a warning on the evils of materialism.

So while many of the other children in Bon Temps played with their newly gifted toys, Tara busied herself with old library books and attempted to avoid drunken tirades. With time, she grew more and more jaded. The mere thought of the holidays filled her with disgust.

As a vampire, however, much of Tara's bitterness over the ghosts of Christmas past seemed to subside. Rather than dread the most festive time of the year, she accepted it with cordial indifference. And that was why she'd surprised even herself when she suddenly felt compelled to buy the biggest Douglas fir, the brightest LED lights and turn her once understated townhouse in holiday central. The result confused her partner and delighted her toddler, who seemed to marvel at everything she did, which only drove Tara to create an even greater spectacle.

"You know, I never took you for the festive type," Pam and Tara's human neighbor Winston remarked hoarsely. In her excitement, Nola's tiny hands playfully tightened around his neck with the force of an MMA heavyweight.

"Oh, she's just full of surprises," Pam quipped snidely as she easily took the toddler into her arms and freed the mortal from her piggyback grip of death.

"I bet," Lark cosigned almost quietly while subtly appraising her workmate.

"Fanta," Nola exclaimed and pointed at the huge Santa Tara bought off Ebay from a seller who called himself Malcolm X-mas. The baby vamp was learning new words every day. Yet it seemed there wasn't a single one that she could pronounce correctly. Try as she might, Tara couldn't get her to distinguish Saint Nick from a soft drink.

"It's Santa, Nola," Winston corrected the toddler kindly.

"Fanta!"

"She's just a baby for heaven's sake," Winston's wife Aminah complained. "Must you always be such a pedant?"

"Yes, actually. I must," Winston said almost apologetically, seemingly nonplussed by her critique.

"Is it me or does Fanta look like Mr. T?"

"It's just you," Tara said firmly, shooting a slowly approaching Eric Northman a dirty look.

It had been Tara's idea to invite him to spend time with his progeny for the holidays. But his attitude was quickly making her regret that decision. It didn't help that the cocky Swede brought Pam extravagant gifts that made Tara's presents look like defective Super Save-a-Bunch closeouts, an endless supply of snide remarks, and his obnoxious sister Nora.

"No. I think I see it as well," Nora agreed all too happily.

"Okay, show's over," Pam chimed in brusquely. "Time to get inside before the angry mob shows up to stake us."

Tara looked on as Pam led everyone back inside their brightly decorated home. Taking another long look at the Santa, she realized he did in fact have a startling resemblance to Mr. T.

* * *

Entering the house, the young vampire was overwhelmed with the smell of the eight-foot tall Douglas Fir she'd purchased several days prior. With her heightened senses, she felt as though she was walking through a dense forest on her way to the dining room where Pam, Nola, and their guests were preparing to have their meal.

From the doorway, she observed the odd, yet vaguely quaint scene.

"I hope ya'll are hungry," Ginger announced in her down home accent as she set bowls of gumbo in front of Winston and Lark before handing Eric, who was seated at the head of the table, a huge champagne bottle of O negative.

"Drink up, big boy." She urged, blatantly coming onto the ancient vampire.

Nodding his thanks ever so slightly, Eric popped open the bottle and drank from it like he was at a Viking celebration.

Rolling her eyes, Tara turned her attention to Nora and Lark. The elder vampire's predatory gaze was fixed on the mortal's cleavage. Fortunately, the Halfling was too busy observing Winston and Aminah's every interaction to notice.

"You know, if anyone ever told me I'd be sitting down to eat with humans a few years back, I would have ripped their heart from their chest and played it like a bagpipe," Nora imparted casually to a distracted and grinning Lark.

Turning to see what had garnered such a smile, Tara caught Aminah shooing her husband's hand away from a bottle of lager.

"I was only going to have a drop," Winston defended.

Without a word Aminah passed him a glass of water.

"Serves me right for marrying a doctor," Winston complained before drinking his water like a chastised little boy.

"I'm sorry, but I have to say," Lark began. "You two make a nauseatingly adorable couple."

"Hear that, sweetheart? She thinks your controlling nature and obsession with my mortality is adorable," Winston joked before kissing his wife's flawless umber hued cheek.

Pam turned and met Tara's studious dark gaze in that moment. Tara could almost hear the message she saw in her maker's eyes.

_You will pay for this._

Tara shrugged off the look with a smirk as she entered and moved to sit beside Pam's chair. From her spot on Pam's lap, Nola greeted her as though she hadn't ever expected to see her again.

"Up," She demanded, already in the midst of making her transition to Tara's arms.

"Hey, baby girl," Tara replied happily, hugging the squirmy toddler while looking over at her maker. "Why aren't you ever this happy to see me?"

"You're never gone long enough," Pam responded simply, just as she caught the full bottle of O+/A+ Nola dropped accidentally on purpose.

After weeks of experimentation, Tara discovered that the combination of one part O positive and three parts A positive was the best way to wean her finicky toddler off of her usual favorite of B+. The blood type had previously done wonders for the girl's disposition, but was becoming more and more difficult for Pam's suppliers to secure. Especially in the quantities needed to keep a young vampire sated.

As Tara kissed the girl on the cheek and spoke soothing words into her ear, she could see her small fangs were drawn. Concerned, she looked to her maker for an explanation.

Pam simply nodded at Lark, who had seemingly captured the attention of all the vampires at the table. Tara thought it might be unwise to let the toddler take her meals around the Halfling, but her coworker had all but invited herself to dinner. And she couldn't bring herself to say no after the way she'd helped to cover for her on Nola's case.

For her part, Lark seemed to either be unaware or unmoved by the effect her fairy blood was having on her fellow diners. She was too engrossed in asking Winston and Aminah all about how they fell in love.

Tara didn't know whether to think Lark's fascination with her neighbors cute or creepy. In over a year of knowing her, Lark never asked how she and Pam met.

No one did, thankfully.

She could only imagine the slack-jawed expression they'd get as they recounted the whirlwind romance that followed Pam's efforts to murder her after her face began melting off from a witch's curse, and Tara's demise at the hands of a cracked out werebitch with a shotgun.

It would be so much easier to explain they'd met on a dating site like _V Meet_.

"We met in Uni," Winston informed the table. "Aminah was pre-med and I was working in the English laboratory."

"He used to help me with all of my essays."

"My wife is nothing if not brilliant, but her writing leaves much to be desired."

"Wife," Nora exclaimed incredulously. "You're married to a human?"

"Happily," Aminah supplied proudly as she pulled her thick black hair into a ponytail.

"What could have _possibly_ possessed you to do that?"

"I'm guessin' the same thing that possessed you to wear those shoes with that top," Pam jibed easily before taking a sip of her drink. "We all have lapses in judgment."

"Yes, well, that would explain your little bundle of… whatever she is," Nora volleyed, nodding uncomfortably in Nola's direction.

Tara could see Pam's demeanor shift ever so slightly at the insult. Her arched brows lowered over eyes that suddenly looked a lot like encapsulated lightening

"Sister," Eric interjected coolly. "Please refrain from insulting our gracious hosts-and Tara," he continued, bestowing a slight yet apologetic smile upon his progeny, who relaxed immediately.

Tara found herself wondering for the umpteenth time that night why she'd invited the arrogant blonde. But she was soon reminded by the content smile on Pam's face. It was the same one that appeared whenever Eric looked kindly on her.

He was an asshole who took pleasure in slighting her, but his presence made Pam happy. As much as she wanted to, Tara couldn't deny her that.

Nora's presence, on the other hand, was a consequence she did not anticipate.

Across the table, she could hear the brunette arguing with her neighbors about the futility of vampire-human relationships.

"All I'm saying is one day you'll wake up and want to drain him."

"Oh, I've had the urge before," Aminah admitted nonchalantly to the astonishment of her husband.

"You have?"

"I'm joking, darling," She soothed kindly before launching back into her argument with Nora. "Honestly, it's vampires like you who make it tougher on the rest of us. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to help children when their parents are convinced you'll eat their young?"

"Ah, the struggles of a mainstreamer," Nora scoffed. "There's nothing I despise more than a toothless vampire."

"Well, what do you know? We actually agree on something," Pam remarked blithely.

"Don't tell me you're siding with her," Aminah exclaimed, her face contorting with equal parts amusement and frustration as she looked at Pam.

Over the past few weeks the two vampires had gotten to know each other more than they had in the years they'd been living as next-door neighbors. A neurologist specializing in pediatrics, Aminah had taken it upon herself to offer Pam and Tara what insight she could on what to expect from Nola's development or lack thereof.

"Workin' an eight to four and drinking bottled synthetic blood won't change who and what we are. We're hunters, killers by our very nature," Pam declared, her practiced Southern accent mellifluous and sharp all at once.

"See, rhetoric like that is why humans will never trust us," Tara said as she tried to coax Nola to drink her meal.

"Humans are right to fear us," Pam continued, licking a stray drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. "And I, for one, prefer it that way."

" So says the bourgeois, happily married mother of one," Nora laughed.

Pam swirled her drink around her mouth before swallowing the jibe.

"Bourgeois, perhaps, but I am neither a wife nor a mother."

"You're caring for a child and you're in a committed relationship," Aminah reminded Pam. "How is that any different?"

Tara sighed, knowing all too well what a touchy subject they were about to get into. Like few others, she knew all about her maker's human youth; how the former debutante spent years dodging marriage proposals from well-to-do merchants her father was keen to establish business partnerships with. Unlike most Victorian women of her status, Pam refused to enter into any union out of expectation or expediency. For her, becoming a wife to a man she didn't love and mother to children she would most likely resent was like contracting an infectious illness - one that would render her completely and utterly immobile.

"Everythang doesn't have to black and white, okay" Tara spoke up impatiently, a noticeable edge to her voice.

"Tara's right," Winston supplied amiably. "Relationships are complex. Not everyone aspires to partake in the lovely tedium that is marriage," He finished with a smile that was soon vanquished by his wife's chastising expression.

"Of course not," Lark agreed quickly. "Although, you have to admit, there is something beautiful about making a formal commitment. "

Pam chortled loudly at the Halfling's remark.

Lark appraised the blonde with ill-disguised distaste. "You know, what you may find funnier is the fact that Tara feels the same way I do. "

Tara's head snapped up at the mention of her name. She barely had a chance to open her mouth to respond before Pam seized on the comment.

"You read her mind, FernGully?"

"No, unlike you, I simply listened to what she had to talk about; dreams, desires, aspirations…that sort of thing. You aught to give it a go sometime."

All at once, the table seemed to quiet. Brown, blue, hazel, and grey eyes all settled on Pam, whose lips slowly curved into an ominous simper.

"Lark," she called out in an almost delightful timbre. "I'll pretend you aren't desperate to have what is _mine_ until the evenin' is over. And you can pretend I'm not an immediate threat to your overall safety and well being. Sound like a plan?"

Without warning, Nola sent her full bottle flying dangerously fast across the table at the Halfling. Hardly missing a beat, Tara reached forward and caught it before turning her attention back to the cranky baby vamp.

"Nola!"

The weepy doe eyed stare she received from the toddler made Tara immediately regret her tone.

"I'm gonna go get her settled down," Tara offered abruptly, sliding her chair back away from the stately dining table. Dinner was quickly turning into a disaster and any opportunity to get away was one she would happily seize.

"I'll come with," Pam said in an exaggeratedly demure cadence that let Tara know she was far from pleased.

_Perfect_.

* * *

"That fucking fairy has got to go," Pam spat the moment they entered the kitchen.

"Hey! Language," Tara exclaimed, shielding Nola's ears to no real effect.

"Fucking fuck language! You should be happy I'm giving her the chance to leave here alive. The kid wants to eat her."

"She does not wanna eat her," Tara said, tickling Nola's tubby stomach. "Do you?"

Nola stopped blathering her muddled toddler rendition of Pam's "fucking fairy" and giggled sweetly.

"What child is going to want to eat their peas when there's a jar of cookies in full view?" Pam asked as she grabbed a sippy cup labeled "B+" from a small wine fridge.

Nola's fangs retracted as soon as she saw pam with her favorite cup. Looking up at Tara with her probing honeydew tinted gaze, she began to speak in the exceedingly curious tone the elder vampire found irresistibly cute.

"Mama get my cup?"

Before Tara could react to the child's words, Pam seized upon them. Head tilted dramatically and hand on hip, she spoke.

"Did she just say what I think she said?"

Tara looked up in surprise to see Pam's tongue pushing against her teeth in the way she only did when she was annoyed enough to eat a small village. The amused vampire nodded tentatively as her maker crossed the kitchen and handed Nola her meal.

"Let me get this straight," Pam began, her slinky Southern affect tinted with disbelief. "I make sure she's fashionably clothed, fed, well manicured and entertained every night while you're off do goodin' with Titania, and she's calling you 'mama'?

Gulping down the remainder of her meal as though she hadn't a trouble in the world, the toddler in question sighed contently as Pam pursed her lips.

"More mama," Nola demanded shoving her empty cup in Pam's direction as if she was a mere scullery maid. Tara bit back the urge to laugh.

"You were sayin'?" She asked raising her dark brows at her conflicted maker.

Taking the cup, Pam shrugged dismissively at her progeny before gently lifting the toddler's chin to looking into her eyes.

"Aww," Pam cooed. "We may be playing house, princess, but I am not your mommy," Pam said sweetly. Turning, she sauntered over to the kitchen sink.

The entire week of Eric's visit, Pam had affected an air of indifference when it came to their unconventional little family. Tara tried to ignore it, tried to remember that actions spoke louder than words. She was done trying.

"You are such a bitch," Tara spat, more incensed with her lover than she could remember in years.

"Language," Pam mimicked, a cheeky expression on her face as she turned around to face her progeny.

"Would it kill you to admit that you care about her? Or us, for that matter?"

Pam pretended to think about the question.

"Yes," She drawled. "I think it would."

"Ladies," a deep male voice sounded as Eric Northman entered the room. "I hate to interrupt your petty lesbian squabble, but I'm bored. Nora and I are leaving.

"Leaving?"

Eric shifted slightly to reveal the beleaguered bleach Blonde who was all but hidden behind his tall figure.

"But you just sat down," Ginger complained, her face the very picture of disappointment.

"Yes, very observant, Ginger," Eric quipped condescendingly. "Pam, you're welcome to join us, of course.

Tara's eyes darted over to her maker, who was smiling the smile she was beginning to hate. She knew instinctively what Pam's response to the invitation would be, but she wasn't about to stick around to hear it.

"Ginger, do me a favor and let everyone know I'm gonna be upstairs with Nola a while. I'll be down when I can."

Nodding at the young vampire's orders, Ginger stepped aside as Tara quickly walked out.

* * *

Oookay. So what did you all think? Digging it so far or nah?


	2. Notorious Thugs

**Notorious Thugs**

* * *

"So where are you ladies off to?" the hack inquired, adjusting his tweed Donegal cap.

Her lips busy maneuvering the dangerous curves of her lover's neck, Pam made no effort to answer the human.

Tara opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it when she realized she had no idea where they were or where they supposed to be headed. It had only been her fourth year in London and the American vampire was still learning the lay of the land.

"Uh, Pam?"

She received little more than a moan in response. Prying the blonde's busy hands from her belt buckle, Tara tried again.

"Pam, where we goin'?"

"We're going to Hell," Pam said matter-of-factly, sitting up to shoot icy blue daggers at the hack through the rear view mirror. "Take your time," she commanded before turning her full attention back to the younger vampire.

The driver nodded discreetly as he drove off toward the infamous club.

"Damn," Tara complained as she felt her fangs descend the moment her lover resumed her onslaught. Embarrassed by the somewhat premature response, she mentally tried to coax them away with little luck.

"Relax," Pam soothed with a smirk, turning her progeny's head to face her own. "I'll handle it," She continued, her right hand nimbly unbuttoning Tara's pants while she slowly eased her into a kiss with her left.

* * *

"Oww!"

"Huh, what happened?" Tara questioned dazedly, her head turning with supernatural swiftness to survey whatever damage her accident-prone toddler had just done. There was a silent pause as the two stared at each other, gauging what their next reaction should be. She braced herself for the almighty wail she already knew was coming.

_And there it is._

"Aw, it's okay," Tara hushed the crying child as she swept her up into her arms. "It's okay, baby."

Tara all but flew them to the bathroom as bloody tears streamed endlessly down the girl's pudgy cheeks. Once inside, she sat Nola down on the seat of their superfluous toilet and hurried off to get a washbasin and a Band-Aid. It was a matter of a second before she was sitting on the floor in front of the baby vamp with supplies in hand and a comforting expression on her face.

"I'm gonna fix everything, alright? No more tears," She reassured her.

Sniffles coming in spurts, the toddler seemed to heed the words. Her soft baby skin now blemished by red streaks and smears. As if fully aware of how untidy she looked, Nola sat stock still as Tara cleaned her face.

"Feel better?"

"No," Nola said, her head shaking from side to side. "My fingur go' ouch," She explained, holding out her tiny, unblemished index finger. Whatever slight injury the child had sustained had already healed. But the toddler had no way of knowing that her boo boo had already gone bye bye. All she knew was that it had hurt.

Tara kissed the girl's finger lightly before wrapping a small elf themed Band-Aid around it.

"How 'bout now?"

Nola bit back a smile as she nodded agreeably.

"Good, now you owe me one kiss," Tara informed the toddler, who quickly and firmly said no. "Oh, it's like that?"

Nola nodded again, amused at her caregiver's faux indignation. She squealed in delight when Tara responded by picking her up and blowing raspberries onto her tummy.

Nearly as quickly as she began her onslaught, the elder vampire ended it. Nola watched Tara expectantly, waiting for her to resume their play.

They lingered in silence instead.

Party long over, the house was empty save for the pair. Pam left for a night out at Hell with Eric and Nora. Ginger left for a shift at the Underground. And with no one to keep them entertained while Tara settled Nola down, Lark, Aminah and Winston made their exit soon after.

Tara ignored the silence as she listened for the dormant instinct she'd honed in guerilla warfare nearly a decade prior. She listened until she could feel it reverberating throughout her entire being, warning her that something wasn't right.

"Look," Nola said quietly and suddenly, causing Tara to startle slightly in her heightened sense of awareness.

Tara's eyes quickly followed the baby vamps outstretched finger, which was pointing to the shaded bathroom window. There was nothing there but colorful, dancing shadows caused by the flickering Christmas lights outside.

"What did you see?"

Ignoring the question, Nola shyly looked down from Tara's probing gaze and began playing with the small infinity charm around her neck.

"Nola, look at me," Tara implored with a smile. "Would you like to play a game?"

Predictably, the toddler immediately expressed her keen interest.

"Good, we're going to play hide and go seek, do you remember how to play?"

At this, Nola appeared uncertain. She drew her lips inward as she waited to see if there would be a lesson on how to play.

"That's okay. All you have to do is be very quiet and stay where I can't see you," Tara explained, setting the girl down and leading her to a four-panel mirror screen in the rear of the spacious room. "Like this," She continued, demonstrating by hiding behind the privacy screen.

Nola covered her mouth adorably when her favorite playmate reappeared. She was already excited to take her turn. Tara crouched down to the diminutive toddler's level and struggled to keep her expression free from the disquiet she was already feeling.

"When I close my eyes it's your turn to hide, okay?

The girl nodded emphatically, this game was clearly serious business. Quietly, Nola waited for her cue from Tara to hide. When it came, the baby vamp scurried behind the ornate dressing screen and stood completely still.

She, of course, knew what spot the impressionable toddler chose. Still, she made a show of looking for her before darting from room to search for anything that might truly be hidden in the house.

* * *

Tara found nothing physically out of the ordinary. Everything was in its rightful place, save for a few unwrapped gifts and toys.

All windows and doors were secure.

Unable to account for the source of her unease, she headed back up the main stairs to relieve Nola from hiding. The wary vampire hadn't made it halfway up before she heard shouts and whistles emanating through the front door from outside.

"Come on out, miss Tara Mae," an unfamiliar voiced sounded in a terrible impression of a country accent.

Tara's mahogany eyes appeared black as they dilated drastically. She swallowed hard, thinking of the small girl waiting for her return upstairs and how best to protect her from whoever was lurking outside. She briefly considered grabbing Nola and making a run for it, but the danger that might pose to the child was too great.

Outnumbered and likely outgunned, the battle-tested Southerner knew her next best option for survival was to surrender. Making up her mind, she quickly descended the stairs and headed for the front entrance.

Taking one last look behind her, she opened the door and confronted the unknown.

* * *

Stepping out of her home, Tara was immediately greeted with the unwelcome sight of three strange men leaning against a shiny black Mercedes Sprinter.

"Ain't it a little late for Christmas Carols?"

Smirking, the largest of the men bared his fangs. The rest followed in rapid succession, each poised to attack.

"Guess not," Tara grumbled before launching herself skyward, just high enough for her surface bound assailants to still see her.

Hovering over their heads, she scoffed mockingly.

"Aight, bet," the smallest of the vampires said in a Nuyorican accent, readying himself to go airborne. "I'mma go get this bitch," he boasted to his cohorts before leaping respectably high into the air and plummeting to the ground soon thereafter.

"Nah, fuck this," another proclaimed before producing an old 9mm Glock 19 from his rear waistband. He pulled the trigger, unleashing a wooden bullet, only to find his target had already disappeared from view.

"You dumb fuck! We need her in one piece," the apparent ringleader chastised, thumping his younger underling hard on the chest with a closed fist before smacking him in the face.

"Yo, if you fuckin' touch me again, I'm tellin' Liz," the younger vampire complained.

* * *

Crouching atop a neighboring flat, Tara watched as her flabbergasted assailants climbed back into their van to regroup. She listened intently as the ringleader emerged from the van to make a phone call.

"Yeah, she's gone...How the fuck should I know? The bitch just flew away. We're going to search the -"

The man paused midsentence as the phone in his hand disappeared. By the time he made to turn and reach for his weapons, they too were already gone. He soon felt the pointy edges of two stakes pressed against his back.

"Who sent you?"

The vampire laughed deeply.

"Suck my-"

"Suit yourself," Tara replied casually before thrusting both stakes through his chest. It felt good, she had to admit to herself. As far as stress relief was concerned, it was much better than the squishy ball Mildred had gifted her for Christmas.

Hearing the doors of the Sprinter open, Tara readied the weapons in her hands once more. Before the figures inside could fully emerge, she hurled them both in their direction. The twin projectiles hit their marks in a spectacularly macabre fashion.

Surveying the carnage around her, Tara felt an almost perverse sense of calm. Whatever this threat was, she certain she could handle it. Alone.

Or so she wanted to believe.

The cell phone she had captured minutes prior began to ring, piercing the quiet of the now eerily silent street. Pulling the device from her pocket, Tara noted the caller's face and name for the first time.

Liz Peña.

_Oh, fuck no._

"Tara?"

"Is everything alright?"

Tara's panic stricken gaze shifted to land upon her neighbors Aminah and Winston, both staring at her with concerned expressions from the safety of their doorway.

"No," Tara said simply.

* * *

Okay, just a quick update for you guys. I knew I wouldn't get a chance to finish the story before my birthday/mother's day weekend so I decided to make it a little longer and post one chapter now instead of a long final chapter later. So I guess this will be 3 or 4 chapters, haven't decided yet. Genuine thanks to everyone who took time to read and comment. Ya'll motivated me to stay up all night (bout to go to sleep after I post this, tbh) and put off all my work to get this done. I'll pm you all and say thanks as soon as I get a chance. In the meantime, let me know what you think. Likes, dislikes, predictions, questions, whatever. I dig all of it. Also, if you couldn't tell, I've been listening to a lotta Biggie :/ But chyeeeah, until next time. Have a great weekend!


	3. Hell is Round the Corner

**Hell is Round the Corner**

* * *

"Open it up," Pam stated unceremoniously, her lucid blue gaze resting on a petite pink-haired stripper working a pole gleaming with violently red LED lights.

_How Festive_.

While enjoying the busty human's gymnastic prowess, she silently regretted not outfitting Fangtasia with something similar when she had the chance.

"What is it?" Tara asked, almost yelling over the heavy bass of _Partition_ as she shook the ornately wrapped gift in her lap.

Scooting over on the strip club's supple leather seating, Pam whispered an almost cryptic answer into Tara's ear.

"I prefer to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving."

For months she'd pondered over what would be the perfect gift for her rash and increasingly restless young progeny. At four years old, it seemed Tara was going through the vampire equivalent of puberty. She was moody more often than not, showed impressive gains in physical ability, fed constantly and developed a formidable sexual appetite that even Pam failed to completely satisfy. Trying was still seriously enjoyable.

After several expensive pairs of panties were unceremoniously ruined at the hands of her enthusiastic lover, she readied herself for Tara's spontaneous tendencies by forgoing them altogether. It was a move that spurred the younger vampire to make more frequent and feverish advances both at home and in public. Given where they were, Pam was certain her present would be put to good use before the night was through.

"Strapon drawers, _really_?"

"I thought it might come in handy," Pam replied innocently, totally unashamed of the gift she'd purchased more for herself than Tara. The fact that she had the keys to a brand new motorcycle waiting for her progeny at home also helped free her conscience of any guilt.

"Private dance?"

Pam looked up to see an attractive human dancer hovering overhead.

_Tall. Blonde. Nice tits. Promising._

"No, thanks," Tara declined, hiding Pam's generous new "gift" with a leather jacket.

"Yes, please" Pam countered defiantly, giving the human stripper an appreciative once over. Producing a large billfold, she held it up between two long, well-manicured fingers and tilted her head discretely in her companion's direction.

Getting the message, the dancer took hold of curious patron's cold hand and led her away to a private room. Pam merely smirked at the glower Tara shot in her direction before disappearing behind a black velvet curtain.

It took roughly three minutes in Pam's estimation for her progeny to return wearing a decidedly serious expression in place of her usual smartass smirk. Her normally bistre colored eyes were black and gleaming with red reflected light.

"Let's go."

Arching a pale brow, the older vampire took note of her lover's rigid body language and low tone. Their species were forceful creatures by nature, constantly making plays for and displays of dominance, but this was getting ridiculous - fun, but ridiculous nonetheless.

"That was quick," Pam remarked, crossing her legs and leaning back nonchalantly while inwardly she was virtually humming with anticipation.

"She wasn't my type," Tara responded simply. "You comin' or not?"

* * *

Her hair cascading messily about her face and mini dress pooled around her waist, Pam was in no uncertain terms coming. Taking her from behind, Tara was making excellent usage of all the gifts she'd been given. Employing nearly all of her preternatural abilities, the younger vampire drove into her with almost incomprehensible speed and force.

Having long lost track of time, Pam knew she'd had enough as the muscles of her inner walls clenched and contracted uncontrollably around her lover's new endowment. Reaching around to massage herself with her free left hand, she felt like crying when Tara roughly pushed her hand aside. She wanted their connection to last, but the friction. The pressure. It was all getting to be too much.

As if sensing this, Tara quickly changed their positions, hoisting Pam up to rest on the edge of a copper plated counter. Instantly missing the closeness, Pam attempted to guide Tara back to her, back inside her to no avail. In the absence of comprehensible words, she groaned her protest instead.

The wait was mercifully short.

Face to face now, Tara's frenetic pace slowed to a crawl. Vigorous grinding became long sinuous strokes. Gone was the lusty determination Pam saw in her lover's dark eyes. Somewhere along the way it had shifted to something that looked frighteningly close to veneration.

"I love you," she heard Tara murmur as she pressed forward one final time.

Pam's response was a decidedly less romantic assortment of high-pitched noise.

Her eyes closed, she reeled from the lingering sensation of the most exacting orgasm she had ever experienced. Lingering in darkness, glimmers of long forgotten faces came rushing back to her mind's eye, men and women, some whose names she could remember, others whose names she never learned.

They'd staked claim to her body, certainly, but had any of them ever claimed to love her? She couldn't recall anyone ever uttering those words to her in more than a century of walking the earth. It was because no one ever had. And no one truly did.

No one until her.

Pam opened her eyes then, just in time to see Tara awkwardly attempting to remove the prosthetic phallus jutting almost ludicrously from her knickers before pulling on her pants.

"What?" Tara asked sheepishly after realizing she was being watched.

_I adore you._

"Nothing," Pam replied as she stood and adjusted her dress.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Pamela!"

Larimar eyes shot open and were met by the unfamiliar sight of a large hotel suite. Pain coursed through every inch of her being as she climbed out of bed.

"Care to join me for breakfast?" Nora asked, gesturing toward a half-naked man who was sitting unconscious on the sofa. His head lulling grotesquely and dried fang marks marring his pale upper body, he looked as though he'd nearly been sucked dry.

"What happened?"

Nora looked over at the human. "Nothing really, just felt a little peckish."

"To me," Pam clarified impatiently.

"Oh, of course. Our bartender friend here silvered your drink at Hell last night. I suppose he thought he might have his way with a vulnerable vamper. But, as you can see, it didn't quite work out in his favor."

"Where's Eric?"

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Nora asked with a shrug. "Lost track of him just before you passed out."

Pam ran her hand across her throat, a feeble attempt to soothe the searing pain she found there. When that didn't work she grabbed a hotel phone and dialed Tara's mobile. After multiple unanswered calls, she swallowed hard. Tara was pissed.

_What else did you expect?_

"I need to go," Pam announced, not quite sure why she was voluntarily communicating with her maker's sister.

Nora scoffed amusedly, easily pushing the younger vampire back down onto the bed. "You're in no condition to go anywhere. You need to feed. Luckily, I saved you a bit of A poz. Thought you'd want to finish him off."

_Of course he's A fucking positive. _

Glaring at the human with disgust, Pam's fangs descended with a click.

* * *

The bitter taste of indignity was still stark on the haughty vampire's tongue when she neared her typically quiet street. Upon arriving, she found it quickly replaced by another seldom experienced emotion - - - dread.

Cordoned off by blue and white police tape, the vile smell of vampire remains was heavy in the air. She felt a piercing stab in her chest and silently prayed that it was the reminisces of colloidal silver flowing through her blood that had been causing her pain and not...

Pam quickly dismissed the morbid thought. Quelling her emotions, she breached the cordon with startling speed that surprised the lowly officer whose job it was to make sure no one entered.

"Oh, fuck me!" the human exclaimed before running after the blonde specter.

Upon arriving at her townhouse, Pam soon noticed a sticky puddle of remains staining the sidewalk leading to the front door. She knew from the smell alone that it wasn't Tara's, but there was still no sign of her or Nola.

Fear for Tara and the toddler they'd cared for the past four months threatened to spill over and cloud what little clarity of thought Pam had as she surveyed the scene.

"Hey, why the hell is she in here?" a silver haired detective questioned everyone in earshot.

"She lives here," a much more recognizable voice called back. It belonged to noneother than Pam and Tara's neighbor, Winston."Don't you, honey?"

Pam glared at the human severely, but stayed silent as he approached and led her back to his home.

"I'm sure you'll understand this is all quite a shock," Winston explained to the detective.

"I don't give a toss," he barked. "Just get her out of my crime scene!"

* * *

"Come on in," Winston invited, stepping into a colorfully decorated and middle eastern inspired foyer that was not unlike his neighbors' in terms of layout.

"She's here," Pam stated, noting a heavy and distinctly youthful scent in the air.

"Yes, about that," Winston started, but soon found himself talking to no one as Pam sped off into the house.

She quickly found who she was looking for sitting uncharacteristically quiet between Aminah and her battered pink bunny. Nola's ghostly green eyes stared fixedly at the tablet in her lap. Engrossed in the digital art she was creating, Nola seemed unaware or uninterested that every adult in the room was watching her intently.

"Nola," Pam called out to the toddler who looked up at her briefly with a defiant glare and fierce frown before returning to her painting.

Stepping forward in her six-inch heels, Pam crouched low in front the baby vamp. When she realized she wasn't going to gain Nola's attention by proximity alone, she brushed the toddler's kinky curls out of her face and spoke as gently as she knew how.

"Nola, I need you to listen to me because I have to go."

This seemed to get the child's attention, as she looked up from the tablet pouting.

"Then I be.. I be by myself," Nola stammered miserably.

"You're going to be with Winston and Aminah."

"No!" Nola folded her arms in the same manner she'd seen Tara do whenever she was upset.

_Patience Pam._

It was what Tara had told her the first night the baby vamp spent in their home and nearly every night thereafter when the child invariably broke something expensive or dear to her. And so, despite her instinct and desperation to seek out her missing partner and those who wished to do her harm, Pam did what she knew Tara would want of her no matter the circumstance .

She was patient.

She listened intently as Nola showed her the superfluous Band-Aid wrapped neatly around her tiny finger. She apologized for not being there when she woke up as usual. She bargained, promising the toddler a trip to a castle with a princess. She soothed and reassured her when Nola still refused to let her leave without a tantrum.

And to Pam's surprise, she felt like shit when finally the obstinate baby vamp peaceably agreed to watch cartoons with Winston.

* * *

"Maybe you should take this," Aminah offered, removing a .45 ACP from her waistband once they entered the kitchen. "Tara gave it to me, but I figure you could use it more than us."

"Not my style," Pam declined smoothly. "Are you sure she didn't say who attacked her?"

"Yes. she said she didn't know who they were... But she did mention someone named Peña, I think."

"Is this place in your name or Winston's?" Pam questioned as her eyes scanned the room.

"Winston's."

"Good. Don't let him answer the door. No one's dumb enough to try anything with pigs crawling all over the place. But cut the lights and keep Nola away from the windows just in case."

"Just in case what? What are we dealing with here? Who's Peña?"

"The queen of New York," Pam answered casually, flying out the kitchen door before the younger vampire had a chance to question her further.

"Ya Allah," Aminah whispered to herself. The full scope of the danger they were in was now startlingly clear.

* * *

Alright, sorry for the delay, guys. Been a little busy, but I never want to leave anyone hanging too long. I can't say much since I'm sleepy, it's late early and I have to get up early early, but thank you for all of your feedback and comments…and urgings to update. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

As long as there's an audience for it, I'll try to make the next update sooner to take your minds off of the crappiness of the actual show, which no longer exists in my head :D. Get at me if you have any questions, comments…or rants!


	4. Babylon

**Babylon**

* * *

"Passes please."

Reaching into her wallet, Tara paused briefly before producing what was essentially her entire month's salary. While all eyes were on her, she looked to Nola to remind herself why she had scrounged and saved for an event that was likely to be forgotten in less than a week.

"Are you alright?" the ticket collector asked, fixing the begrudging attendee with a concerned gaze as he waited for her to part with her passes.

"She's fine," a tall blonde intervened, stepping forward to pry the tickets away from her companion's reluctant hands.

"Enjoy the show," the ticket collector winked at the towheaded toddler standing between the women.

* * *

They were late, per usual, entering the darkened arena while thousands of adults and children alike were already sitting and waiting anxiously for the show to begin.

Nola on her hip and Pam at her rear, Tara inelegantly made her way along the aisle with terse apologies to those she had stepped on or bumped into. Popcorn and the sticky reminisce of spilled soda dotted both the ground and the soles of their shoes the entire way. And when their trek was finally over, the trio discovered that their overpriced seats had already been occupied.

"Three empty seats there, 'ave at 'em," a brawny, spray tanned man flippantly directed them.

Tara held her tongue and assessed the situation. There was no reason to make a scene. They were surrounded by small children, after all. She would simply let it slide. And, in all honesty, there wasn't much of a difference between the three empty seats and the painfully overpriced seating that rightfully belonged to her…

_Aw, hell no._

"That _would_ be an option, if I actually paid to sit there," Tara began sweetly, sounding every bit the hospitable Southerner. "But since I didn't? Move. Now!" Tara commanded, her fangs cutting through the darkness of the theater to gleam menacingly.

The human nearly fell over into the next row in his hurry to scoop his children up and hurry them away as an elaborate drum roll sounded across huge arena.

"Hiya, boys and girls! Are you ready for some Tiddlywinking fun?"

"Just stake me now," Pam beseeched, glowering at the stage where five prancing men emerged in rainbow colored outfits.

"It'll be over before we know it," Tara comforted, looking as miserable as Nola appeared delighted. She had no way of knowing then that the wait for intermission alone would become the ultimate exercise in patience. For an hour and twenty minutes, Tara and Pam watched straight-faced as the Tiddlywinks beguiled a stadium full of mostly toothless young humans with their illustrious array of catchy hits, including:

_Hey! That's Not Food!_ _Don't Pick Your Nose_, and _Divorce is not Bye Bye_.

When the rainbow clad men fled the stage and the house lights brightened, Tara felt as though the heavens had smiled upon them and granted her mercy.

"You know, if we leave now, she won't know the difference," Pam offered, gesturing to Nola, who was too young to know that a conspiracy was being hatched right in front of her. She was also too busy coveting a passing child's Tiddly Teddy care that she was being discussed at all.

Tugging on Tara's jacket, the baby vamp pointed out the fleeting object of her desire.

"I go get it."

Tara studied Nola's comically serious expression, trying to discern whether the girl had just leveled a statement of intent or a request for permission. She quickly realized it was a potentially disastrous mixture of the two that would most likely end in a flood of bloody tears.

"Let's go baby girl," Tara said, taking Nola's hand and guiding her out of her seat. "Pam, you comin'?"

"To watch you spend money on useless junk?"

Tara nodded plainly.

Pam shrugged.

"Sure, what the hell."

* * *

The line for the Tiddly Teddy stand stretched almost as long as the initial line to enter the arena before the show began. Whiney children and even whinier adults complained every step of the way.

" No cutting!" a woman bellowed from the back.

"The queue starts back there, mate," a man half-threatened from the middle

"Looks like they've run out," another announced toward the front, which in turn sparked a torrent of grumbles and complaints that triggered a mass exodus of angry parents and sulky children from their spots.

Fortunately, having glamoured a parent into selling her the bear she'd just secured, Pam managed to avoid the wait and snag one of the last Tiddly Teddy's the stand had left.

"I've been waiting thirty minutes for one of those," a slight man who had witnessed the exchange declared almost breathlessly.

"Better luck next time," Pam responded dismissively, handing the bear off to a wide-eyed Nola.

"How much did you pay her for it? I'll give you four times that."

Tara looked on in disbelief as her maker pursed her lips in consideration.

"Pam!"

Eyes rolling dramatically at Tara's vocal remonstration, Pam unenthusiastically shot the offer down.

"Can you really place a price on a child's happiness?"

As if on cue, Nola pulled her bear into a secure embrace.

"Absolutely! I'll give you five hundred pounds. You can buy her a much nicer Christmas gift with that. A nice doll, maybe? How would you like that, sweetheart?"

From behind the safety of her bear, the baby vampire frowned at the stinky stranger who was showing a disconcerting amount of interest in her new favorite plushie.

Both of her guardians watched the interaction closely, but neither of them expected Nola to suddenly respond by baring her fangs as fiercely as Tara did earlier that evening.

"They _really_ are like sponges at this age," Pam remarked, grinning proudly at the baby vamp.

Tara ignored the dig, too annoyed with herself to think of anything snide to say in return. For as often as she'd asked her partner to check her behavior around the toddler with those very words, she knew that she really needed to work on doing the same.

So while Pam pulled the floored human aside to be glamoured so severely he barely remembered that he had a child, let alone one who wanted a Tiddly Teddy, Tara tried to figure out how best to prevent Nola from doing what was as natural to their kind as breathing was for humans.

She watched intently as the toddler casually retracted her fangs and began blathering to her new teddy bear. It still amazed Tara how quickly the baby vamp could go from lion to lamb and back again. And it frightened her that she might not be there to protect her from those who would never see anything more than a monster.

"C'mon kid," Pam announced out of the blue, lifting Nola up into her arms. "Your skinny twinks are back on."

Still enmeshed in her gloomy thoughts, Tara was surprised when she felt Pam's hand gently brush the side of her cheek. Troubled brown eyes met shrewd blue.

"It'll be fine…I promise."

* * *

When finally she collected her roving thoughts, Tara realized she was staring into nothing more than the clear sight of a PSO-1.

"Not now bitch."

She forced her focus back on the shadowy walkway outside of the alleyway leading to Underground. Over the course of an hour she'd witnessed a small army of vampires traveling in and out of her lover's clandestine establishment. Their high-powered weaponry easily distinguished them from the typical low-key patrons of the member's only club.

There was no way on Earth that she would be able to fight them head on and survive. But if she played her cards right, Tara was confident she could pick off a decent amount of targets with some patience and, of course, her trusted SVD**.**

The semi-automatic sniper rifle had become something akin to her best friend during her brief, yet brutal time in Namibia. A rebel commander presented Tara with the battered looking weapon nearly ten years prior as a gift for saving his niece's life. Upon holding it in her hands for the first time, she had strong doubts that it actually worked.

The rifle became a fierce and dependable ally, however. Together they haunted the shadows of Windhoek and stalked the cool Namib Desert, where Sanguinist soldiers burrowed like beetles in the region's famed sand dunes to evade the rebels who hunted them during the day and night.

But that was then.

The brightly lit towers of London were a far cry from the dim, low lying structures Tara had grown accustomed to in Southern Africa. To complicate matters, her skills were rusty. Running behind a turbocharged toddler wasn't easy, but it wasn't quite the same as tracking vicious murderers. Tara scoffed at the strangly apt comparison. She soon found thoughts of returning to the baby vamp she left behind were enough to momentarily quell all uncertainty about her abilities.

Leveling her weapon and focusing her sight, Tara caught a glimpse of a vaguely familiar figure. Long dark hair framed her youthful face and roguish features. Heavily armed guards flanked the woman on her left and right. She swaggered about as though she had no need for them, however.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tara questioned aloud.

The ambient noise of the bustling city stories below her was the only response the perturbed sniper received. She scoured her memories for a clue until a curious answer struck her.

_Tara Mae Thornton. Who the fuck are you?_

All at once the vision of her fleeting encounter with the cocky vampire became startlingly clear. So clear that Tara could almost smell Pam's fragrance swirling in air, the same way it had the night she recklessly tracked her to the Underground.

_There you are._

Tara's finger drifted toward the trigger of her SVD.

"Now that is a very bad idea."

Muscles tensing, Tara silently bristled at the sound of the voice she had grown to dislike almost as much as the vampire it belonged to.

"Unless, of course, your idea is to start a war."

"I ain't startin' shit," Tara replied, adjusting the Dragunov against her shoulder. "They came after me. Now I'm comin' after them."

"Regardless. You harm her and her maker will stop at nothing to destroy you."

Tara pulled the trigger.

With vicious speed and accuracy, she dispatched the guards until there was nothing left but guts and glass splattered about the sidewalk where they once stood.

"Well, you're smarter than I thought."

"_Fuck_ you!" Tara spat, angry at herself for purposely missing the mark she truly wanted. The younger vampire barely knew what hit her when felt herself slammed hard against a rooftop HVAC unit.

"Perhaps I spoke too soon," Eric said calmly, his hand cupping Tara's throat.

"Let her go."

"Pam, nice of you to join us. I was just teaching your progeny how to properly speak to her elder-."

An intensely loud gunshot drowned out the Viking's next words.

Feeling Eric's hand fall from her neck, Tara looked down in shock to see him clutching his side. Her eyes quickly darted to where Pam stood holding a 9mm Beretta.

Another shot.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tara asked incredulously as Eric fell from the silver bullet lodged in his thigh.

"Tara, you need to find Xiomara Vargas and you need to kill her."

"But Eric just-"

"Set you up. Now go."

"No," Tara refused staunchly. The young vampire was as confused as she'd ever been, but she was certain of one thing. She wouldn't walk away from Pam. Not when she needed her. Not ever. "I'm not going anywhere."

"As your maker, I command you..."

"Oh fuck off!"

"You first," Pam volleyed, gun trained on her Maker while she quirked her brow playfully at her progeny.

Accepting defeat, Tara swung her duffle bag over her shoulder, grabbed her SVD and fought the urge to look back at the very center of her existence. Forcing herself over the edge, she swiftly found herself in a literal and figurative free fall.

_It'll be fine…I promise._

* * *

Weeeell okay then. Not sure I expected that. I didn't get any sleep sooo kinda too tired to think of anything more to say other than thanks for reading. Thanks for the feedback and encouragement as well. Without that I probably wouldn't have kept going with these two the way I have. It's almost surprising to hear there's still an audience for them despite…well, you know. Anway, questions and comments, if you got 'em, drop me a line. Also, the title of this chapter was snagged from the SZA/Kendrick Lamar track.


	5. Retrograde

**Retrograde**

* * *

The smell of cardamom and coriander overwhelmed Tara's senses the moment she entered the Indian carryout joint. With a sizable sniper rifle hanging over her left shoulder and a duffel bag full of weapons on right, she was grateful to find it characteristically empty, save for the owner and her two sons.

"Wotcha," the youngest of the men greeted Tara amiably.

Nodding at the humans in greeting, she made her way through the empty kitchen and into a walk in freezer. Able to see clearly in unlit the space, she didn't bother to tug on the overhead light. Moving a stack of boxes, Tara soon found the hidden key panel she was searching for. Unlocking it, she entered yet another small room with an almost ancient looking iron door.

She had been amazed when her maker first showed her the secret passageway to the Underground, facilitated by an abandoned tube tunnel that hadn't seen human usage since the Second World War. No one knew of the entryway save for them. Even the humans who ran the restaurant had no idea where they went when they disappeared into the storage space, and they were glamoured sufficiently enough by Pam not to care.

The tunnel was black as pitch, yet Tara knew the dark labyrinth as well as her own name.

As she made her way along an unmarked path, the young vampire began to hatch her plan. She trusted her maker implicitly, but the evening's strange turn of events suggested that she should think long and hard before she entered the Underground with guns blazing.

Despite the fact that Tara's abilities had grown exponentially, she was still very much a fledgling in the vampire world, not yet twenty-years old and full of vulnerabilities. Granted, she was unusually fast for her age. Speed alone, however, would not be sufficient indoors against multiple enemies. And relying on brute strength and force wasn't an option. As she approached the subterranean entrance of the Underground, Tara suspected her ability to outwit her enemies was the only thing that would see her through the night.

* * *

"You shot me," Eric remarked matter-of-factly, lowering his tall frame to sit along the rooftop's edge.

"Twice, yes," Pam drawled slickly while her maker dug out the silver bullet lodged in his leg with the pointy blade of a stiletto knife. "And third time's the charm unless you tell me why you had Nora silver my drink."

At the accusation, Eric averted his eyes and swallowed harshly. Whether it was from physical pain or something deeper, Pam couldn't be sure.

"I trusted you...more than anyone else in the world, I trusted you. I ignored my own instinct just because I wanted to believe that you would never try to hurt-"

"I needed you out of the way," Eric interrupted weakly, sill avoiding his progeny's hurt gaze. "You were never meant to get hurt."

Pam laughed bitterly, more at herself than anything else.

"But Tara was?"

"She was to be captured, that's all. I was there to make sure of that."

Pale eyes grew ominously dark as realization dawned.

"Were you watching while she was attacked?"

Car horns blared in the distance while Eric remained silent.

"Answer the fucking question!" Pam demanded, aiming her berretta at her maker with renewed vigor.

Rising, Eric moved toward his the gun-wielding progeny with terrifying speed. He stopped centimeters away from the barrel pointed at his unbeating heart. His voice low, the ancient vampire snarled as he bore down on his target. Pam forced herself not to flinch in the shadow of her sire's intimidating presence.

"You want answers? Here are you answers," Eric began, his voice fierce but quiet. "There are a thousand vampires out there who would kill you for what you've built. The clientele. The suppliers. The money. Liz Peña is _one_ of them. But believe me when I tell you, she is the one that truly matters. There is no reasoning. There is no negotiation. There is only death, _if_ you don't give her exactly what she wants, how she wants it…And whether you agree to it or not, Pena is going take your progeny.

* * *

Setting her duffle bag down, Tara rifled through it and pulled on the pair of leather gloves Pam gave her the Christmas she'd surprised her with news of her plans to fight in Namibia. Tara smirked slightly as she remembered that the gloves had actually been thrown at her, along with several other heavy objects that narrowly missed her head that tumultuous night. While she hadn't much need for a pricey pair of Burberry gloves in the country's semi-arid climate, Tara found a use for them. Along with a seven foot long silver coated steel chain.

Grabbing the same chain that had served her so well during war from her bag, she slowly climbed a rusty ladder that led to a trapdoor in the basement cellar of the club.

Upon pushing up through the weighty stone covered hatch, Tara quickly made out the sound of muted voices. Quietly setting the hidden trapdoor back down in to place, she moved toward the sounds and listened.

_-Ow, shit!_

_\- - -Se hace de la plata estúpido!_

_-Ay, _vení aquí, _we need to go out there and find who did this._

_\- - -Naw, you on your own. I'm not goin' out there._

_-Yeah, B, it's too hot right now, let's just wait it out. _

_\- - -Or you can take Xiomara, her balls are bigger than mine._

_\- -Man, fuck ya'll! Fuckin' pussies._

_-Whatever, B, good luck!_

Waiting a minute for the third voice to depart, Tara typed in a code to unlock the vault door between them. In a matter of seconds, the colossal silver-plated steel barrier that protected the Underground's extensive inventory of blood quickly yielded.

"What did you press?"

"Who gives a fuck? Look at this!"

Tara stood stock still, pinned against the wall behind the vault entrance while the two eager vampires entered and gawked at the selection. Slipping from her hiding spot in a flash, she sped out of the room undetected. Once on the outside, she swiftly pushed door shut and dialed an emergency code into a nearby security panel that Pam had installed for one function- - - to flood the cellar with UV light.

The screams began almost immediately.

Tara suspected the sound would not go unnoticed. And when she heard rapidly approaching footsteps, she was sure of it. Chain wrapped partially around her fist, she crept forward and prepared herself to strike. She was ready to whip the metal around the first neck she saw until she heard shrieking.

_Ginger_.

The footsteps retreated, ostensibly to check on the commotion upstairs. Following closely behind, Tara stalked the vampire with catlike delicacy. By the time her prey spun around, she was already using his left thigh like a stepladder to propel herself over him, but not before hurling a stake into his chest.

Without missing a step, Tara continued prowling upstairs where Ginger's cries grew louder and louder. Nearing the open door a private feeding room, she spotted the bleach blonde being cornered by the very vampire she'd marked for death.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm only tryna-"

Vargas's next words were literally choked out of her. She hissed as a silver chain wrapped firmly around her neck. Instinctively she reached to pull it off and burned her hands in turn.

"Tryna what?" Tara inquired innocently, removing a PMR-30 pistol from the brunette's waistband while she groaned in pain.

"Help," Vargas rasped. "I was trying to get her out of here. Just ask her."

Tara looked up at Ginger who was still screaming, then back to her captive. No closer to an answer Tara pressed the gun into her back.

"Wait wait wait! I'm telling you the truth," Vargas growled, which in turn triggered another bout of sporadic shrieking from Ginger. "Bitch, can you stop fuckin' screaming and help me!"

"Watch yourself," Tara warned, pulling the chain tighter until Vargas screamed in agony.

"It's true," Ginger said suddenly, nodding in the direction of the ground. "She ain't lyin'."

Tara looked down for the first time and noticed vampire remains on the floor.

* * *

"So she can have the fucking club, what does she need with Tara?"

"Collateral," Eric replied neatly. "Security to ensure a smooth and _profitable_ transition."

Her anger at her maker superseded by fear of losing her progeny, Pam lowered her weapon for the first time since she'd fired it.

"I need to know where she's staying."

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't," Eric warned solemnly. "It's a suicide mission."

Without a word, Pam switched out the Beretta's magazine of silver for another pre-loaded with lethal wooden bullets before presenting the butt of the gun to her maker.

"Either you kill me now or you tell me what I need to know. Either way, I will die before I give her up."

Eric stared blankly at Pam's lethal offering.

"...She's staying at Grosvenor House."

"How convenient," Pam breathed weakly, barely concealing the revulsion she felt at her complete lack of awareness. The hotel was mere blocks away from the Green St. home she shared with Tara and Nola. Taking a deep breath, she turned her back on her maker. Pam barely took two steps when she stopped and turned around. It couldn't end so easily between them. She wouldn't let it.

"I owe you everything. I always will. But please know that if you _ever_ touch my progeny again, I promise you, Eric, the bullets won't be silver."

* * *

Okay, so here's the update as promised. Hope you enjoyed it :) Much thanks for all the feedback, got me going that much faster. I know you probably hate that your favorite duo is separated, but I'm working to bring them back together soon. You're all due for some saccharine content, but somehow this story has lasted longer than planned. Maybe a one-shot flashback in place of the next update? What do you all say? Let me know what you think. And just for giggles, I'm trying to imagine what this Peña chick looks like. I'm thinking Rosie Perez but maybe I should be thinking of Selinis Leyva from OITNB lol. Title borrowed by the crazy addictive James Blake song "Retrograde".


	6. Alone, Alone And Alone

**Alone, Alone And Alone**

* * *

"You know this shit really burns right," Vargas complained, pulling weakly at the thick silver chain binding her wrists together.

Closing the vault door behind them, Tara unceremoniously pushed the brunette to sit on the floor beside the gooey remains of her cohorts. "That's why I'm gonna take them off."

"For real?" Vargas questioned skeptically, her face contorting with disbelief.

"For real," Tara reassured, crouching down beside her.

"So you're not going to kill me?"

"Nope." Tara said, unraveling the chain as heedlessly as one might rip off a Band-Aid.

"Fucking hate silver," Vargas hissed in pain as she nursed her bloodied and scarred wrists. Smoke rose from her tan flesh even after the offending metal was removed.

Tara stood and retrieved a twenty-year-old bottle of A+ from the extensive grid of arched brick bottle racks in the cellar.

"Here," she offered it to the newly unchained prisoner, who in turn eyed it dubiously. "I thought you liked A positive."

"I do, but this shit is older than me," Vargas complained as she sniffed the bottle and scrunched her features with disgust.

"You need to heal, don't you?"

After pouring out two sips in honor of the two "ass stains" on the floor, Vargas took a drink. And another. And then countless more until six empty bottles of A positive laid discarded by her side while she worked on a seventh.

"Hungry?" Tara asked facetiously.

Arms akimbo, she'd watched for thirty minutes to see if the vintage A+ would have the inebriating effect the talkative vampire once claimed it did.

"Always."

Vargas rose like a rocket, standing unsteadily on her feet before she braced herself on against a brick rack.

"So you gonna keep me locked up and well fed like your little pet rat?"

"Nah, I'm not too crazy 'bout rodents."

"Then don't ever come to New York," Vargas whispered as though she was imparting a precious piece of advice. "Place is crawling with the little fuckers. Huge, too."

"Bet it ain't nothin' compared to the big ass possums I grew up with," Tara countered, chuckling at the thought of the fat grey and white opossums that used to terrify her as a human child growing up in rural Louisiana.

"The fuck is a possum?" the Manhattan native questioned before taking another swig from her half empty bottle of A+.

"You don't wanna know," Tara laughed.

Wiping her mouth, Vargas frowned suddenly.

"Why are you really keeping me here?"

"It's safer. For the both of us."

"Oh, sure, nothing to do with using me for leverage."

"You took care of Ginger, now I'm takin' care of you. Course, I'm sure your maker would be willin' negotiate to get you back sooner rather than never."

Vargas scoffed, "this is the la Reina's game. I'm a pawn who got knocked off the board. No loss to her or anyone else."

"So, she set you up with twelve guards because she doesn't give a shit about you?"

"Guards? Those were my brothers. I have a hundred and seventy-six…or at least I did until you showed up," Vargas said, staring at Tara pointedly. "Those ass stains on the floor there, they're fifty-five and fifty-six. The puddle of piss in the staircase was seventy-one. The perv who attacked your friend up there was sixty-six."

"What number are you?"

"127, not even a good one. You know how demeaning that shit is?"

When she didn't receive an answer, Vargas grabbed another bottle of A+ and shrugged. "Of course not, numero uno. You've got the best of everything."

"You know anything about me," Tara said evenly.

"It's my job to know about you. And I'm not braggin', but I do my job really fuckin' well. In fact, I know shit about you that _you_ don't know yet."

Vargas smirked mischievously.

"Try me," Tara challenged the New Yorker.

"Well, for starters, you're not really number one. Blondie made a vampire before you."

Though she reeled inwardly at the revelation, Tara's outward appearance remained impassive. Vargas's roguish features and toothy grin reminded her of a shark and she wasn't about to let her know she'd pierced her deeply with the revelation.

"If you're tryna piss me off, it ain't workin'."

"Me? No. I got a big mouth, is all. Drinkin' this shit doesn't help."

"Yeah, I can see that," Tara remarked distantly as she considered all the ways she might use the brunette's flaws to her advantage.

Vargas continued talking, either too naïve or too tipsy to notice her captors contemplative demeanor. "I'm actually really sorry I had to tell you that. I am. But, the thing is, you need to see that you're a pawn, too. We're on opposite sides waiting to get picked off just the same…"

Toying with a bottle cork, Vargas trailed off.

"What if I let you go?" Tara probed using the same compassionate tone she favored when counseling difficult cases at HMAL.

"Hey, whether you kill me or you let me go and la Reina kills me for not killing you, I'm screwed either way. So don't act like you can help me when you're just as fucked as I am."

A thick and impenetrable silence blanketed the cellar and remained in place for minutes.

Without a word, Tara pulled a large tactical knife from her thigh holster and hovered the weapon inches away from her waist. Gripping the hilt firmly, she took a moment to prepare for the excruciating pain she was about to inflict on herself.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you," Tara replied plainly before plunging the silver coated blade into her flesh.

* * *

Stood behind a minimalist grey counter, a smartly dressed resident concierge answered the front desk phone.

"Grosvenor House Apartments, how may I assist you?" he asked unenthusiastically. In the dead of night he was the sole staffer manning the front desk until morning. But as an attractive blonde approached, the concierge's night suddenly seemed more promising

"Cheers, how may I be of service?" he inquired, smiling appreciatively.

"I'm here to visit an old friend, Liz Peña," the woman replied in a soft Oxford lilt.

"Of course," the man replied cheerfully before scanning a large tablet. "Your name?"

"Swynford de Beaufort," Pam replied, scrutinizing the man carefully while he checked for her name.

"I'm afraid that's not on the guest list. But I can ring and let Ms. Peña know you're here."

"That won't be necessary," Pam said, deliberately capturing the human's hazel eyes with her entrancing gaze. "I'd much rather it be a surprise."

* * *

The walk from the reception desk was pure agony. Heels tapping neatly with each step upon the sleek black tiles, Pam quickly made her way into an open elevator.

Overwhelmed by the awareness of her progeny's suffering, she struggled to focus on the task at hand. Once inside she smacked a button and tried to ignore the disquieting sensation.

It wasn't long before the lift reached the top floor. When the doors yielded, Pam's expression was as unemotional as it ever was. That soon changed when she met her envoy.

"Pamela," Eric greeted her with a courteous nod.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Pam questioned, still incensed at her maker and his underhanded tactics.

"Making sure you don't do anything stupid, of course," Eric responded brusquely before pointing his progeny toward Peña's apartment. "This way."

* * *

It came as no surprise to Pam that the path leading to the lion's den was lined with vultures. Leaning against the corridor's walls, they watched with smirks on their faces as their maker's latest quarry made her way past them.

Judging from their youthful looks and similar style, Pam guessed they were all turned within a short span of time. She'd heard stories of Peña's ever expanding brood of progeny, but she never would have guessed a mob of mere teenagers could be as effective and brutal as rumor purported.

Studying the boyish faces, she had no doubt that each and every one of them would die for their maker. Though it would be callous rather than fearless dedication that cost them their lives. A particularly small and juvenile looking vampire stood outside of the door of their final destination

"Weapons," he demanded.

Eying the baby vamp harshly, Pam removed a Beretta from her waistband and handed it over.

The child didn't budge.

"All of them."

Rolling her eyes now, Pam reached into her bra, removed a small can of silver self-defense spray and dropped it on the floor.

Nodding his approval, the baby vamp opened the door.

* * *

Tales of Peña's brutality and unscrupulous habit of turning street kids painted a hideous picture of the queen. Most imagined her to look like some feminine version of a Dickensian villain, complete with facial hair. The fact that no one knew her origins only added to the mystery surrounding her. To anyone bold enough to ask who turned her, Peña would simply answer, "Yemayá". In reality, the queen was as cold as she was beautiful. Long, thick black hair framed her defined yet feminine face. Bronze skin, round lips, high cheekbones and big melancholy brown eyes masked her bloodthirsty nature from humans and vampires alike. But it wasn't long before the unsightly truth revealed itself.

Stood in stark contrast to monochromatic sitting room, Peña wore a pale blue dress, dangerously high white heels and an ominous frown. Behind her, several young male vampires sat along a lengthy white sofa playing a video game.

"Mr. Northman," the queen began in a velvety Venezuelan accent. "How do you define without incident?"

Moving into a guarded stance, Eric remained silent.

"Turn that off," Peña ordered abruptly. "I need to see the news."

"But the game is almost-"

"Turn. It. off!"

Peña's chastised progeny quickly did as told.

_In a sudden surge of violence, over a dozen vampires were slain on the streets of Central London within a twenty-four hour period. Law enforcement suspect a possible turf war is to blame._

"Is this without incident?" the queen asked as prerecorded images of two separate crime scenes played upon the screen. "A discreet business with discreet clientele, that is what I wanted. Not the site of a fucking massacre!"

"If I may be so bold, your highness," Pam stepped forward in a blur to stand toe-to-toe with Peña. "Had I been informed of your designs on my progeny and my livelihood, there wouldn't have been a _fucking_ massacre. You left her no choice."

The queen smiled appreciatively as she sized up the incensed Londoner.

"Perhaps," Peña responded. "In any case, you will deliver your progeny to me tonight or I'm going to take a hell of a lot more than your livelihood."

In an instant Pam felt something akin to nausea, but not from Peña's words. Tara was weakening at an alarming rate. She could feel the indescribable light that bound them to each other growing dim. The sensation was enough to make her double over with shock.

"You promised me you wouldn't harm her," Eric reminded, stepping in front of his progeny.

"And I won't, if she cooperates. You will cooperate won't you, Pamela?"

"I can't," Pam breathed quietly.

A playful knock sounded at the door.

With a slight nod, Peña gave the order to a slight young vampire to open it before turning her attention back to Pam.

"And why is that?" she asked, her expression twisting with rapt curiosity.

"Because I already took care of her," a confident voice called out.

The smell of Tara's blood overwhelmed Pam's senses. She turned to see Xiomara Vargas drenched in it. Their eyes met fleetingly, yet long enough to convey a message no on else in the room could be privy to.

Vargas winked.

Recognizing the signal, Pam flashed her fangs and tried to attack the younger vampire. Eric's powerful grip held her firmly in place.

"Is this true?" Peña asked. "Did you feel it?"

Retracting her fangs, Pam nodded.

"Yo soy tu hija! Is my word worth less than a stranger's?" Vargas asked provocatively.

In a millisecond the queen spun on her progeny and threw her across the room.

"If you truly were my daughter, you would know not to question me!" Peña bellowed.

The violent outburst flickered out as suddenly as it had flared up.

"_La letra con sangre entra," she said, smiling back at Pam. "Xiomara needs a firm hand, and even then she can be unpredictable. In retrospect, _I was foolish to turn a girl at all. I wanted someone to relate to. I had no idea they were…difficult. "

"I never asked you to turn me, you fucking monster," Vargas croaked as she slowly and painfully picked herself up off the shattered remains of a glass coffee table.

Peña sighed deeply.

"See what I mean?" she complained, sounding like an exasperated mother of an unruly tween before turning back to her progeny. "One more outburst and you're in silver for the rest of the week!"

"We can come back if you'd like privacy," Eric offered dryly.

"No. Let us settle this now. Seeing as though your progeny is no more, what can you offer me in the way of security, Pamela?"

The queen stared into blue eyes so cold they made the Arctic look sweltering in comparison.

"I'm told you've taken in a small child."

"Hey," Vargas interrupted fervently. "I never told you that."

"Come now, Xiomara, you're hardly the only one I rely on for information."

"She's just a baby," Pam protested.

"So were we all once," the queen replied with a wistful smile before she walked toward the kitchen, where a glass of blood awaited her atop a white marble counter. "Bring her to me, Xi, and I may reconsider your week's silvering."

"No," Vargas answered defiantly.

"¿Perdon?"

"I said no, you evil bitch!"

No one saw the .22 in her hand until a moment before it fired. As she moved to attack, a wooden bullet had already entered Peña's heart. A violent explosion of blood left the black and white room marked with streaks of red. Within seconds, the room was flooded with the queen's well-armed progeny.

"The fuck happened?" the smallest of them asked.

Vargas nodded toward the puddle formally known as their maker. "She shot herself."

The room remained silent until a tall baby vamp broke the stalemate.

"It's true," he answered in a deep voice before he picked up a controller and resumed playing his previously interrupted basketball video game. "I saw her do it."

"Well, I guess that concludes our business here," Eric said carefully after a long tense minute of silence, his eyes shifting between the multitude of guns still pointed in their direction. "Come on," he directed Pam before carefully navigating toward the exit.

"She stays!" Vargas ordered. "You can leave."

The ancient Swede didn't budge.

"I'm fine," Pam reassured. "Go."

When her maker finally acquiesced and left the room, Pam turned around to face her unexpected savior. As Vargas approached, she noted the absence of the braggadocio she'd displayed from their first encounter at the Underground.

"It was her idea," Vargas explained, motioning to her bloody clothes. "I didn't touch her."

"I know," Pam replied assuredly. "You couldn't if you tried."

"I realize you probably hate me now, but I just thought I'd let you know that I didn't want any of this. From now on you won't have any trouble from us. You have my word."

Pam exhaled deeply. As much as she didn't care, she knew the girl was genuine.

"You helped get me out of a pinch and I appreciate it, but if you're looking for more than a thank you, then you're barking up the wrong tree. Now, if you don't mind, it's a little too crowded in here for my tastes."

Vargas looked toward the small vampire guarding the exit and nodded.

"Tell Tara I said, thanks for the drinks."

* * *

The dash home was both the shortest and the longest of Pam's existence. Instinct informed her that Tara would return to check on Nola first. And upon arriving on the street where they lived, she knew from scent alone that she'd already collected the toddler from their neighbors. What Pam hadn't expected, however, was a taxi van packed with luggage and two light-tight travel coffins idling in front of their home in place of police vehicles.

Tara emerged from the townhouse balancing Nola on her hip and a bumper seat in her hand. Face-to-face they stood, staring at each other with a mixture of relief and regret.

Noting Tara's unsullied clothes, Pam gently touched the now healed spot where she'd wounded herself earlier.

"Nola shared some of her B+ with me," Tara explained, smiling at the pouting toddler on her arm.

"It's over," Pam said and immediately regretted her choice of words.

"Figured."

Tara's reply sounded so casual that, if she hadn't known any better, Pam would have guessed she had been present to watch everything go down.

"How did you know that would happen?"

"I didn't. Not exactly, anyway. But everybody's got their own breaking point. Sometimes you just gotta stand back and see what happens when they reach it."

The message struck too close to home for Pam's liking. It sounded like goodbye.

"Look, I know I fuc-fudged up last night," Pam said in a weak attempt to be mindful of the toddler hanging on her every word. "I acted like a royal bit—bad person and I'm sorry."

Tara laughed despite herself.

"Well, you were right about one thing."

Pam arched an inquisitive brow.

"There's a reason why Nola's calling you momma and not me...I was spending most of my time tryna take care of all the troubled baby vamps in London and you were here taking care of her."

"Tara-"

"Let me finish. I got so caught up in what I wanted, I didn't even think about how you felt. The truth is even tried not to think about it. I wanted it so much I didn't want to know how you really felt. So, I guess, I can't blame you for finally telling the truth."

"Tara," Pam started, cupping her progeny's face as though it would make her words register clearer. "The only truth I should have told you is that I love you."

"I love you, too," Tara echoed sadly. "But this ain't just about us loving each other anymore. For as long as we walk this Earth, this child will be our responsibility. She needs to always come first. I'm ready to make sure of that now. Can you honestly say the same?"

Pam opened her mouth to speak words she couldn't yet bring herself to say. The silence was deafening.

"Figured that, too," Tara murmured before she turned away and walked toward the waiting taxi. Her head resting peacefully on her Tara's shoulder, Nola looked back with sleepy green eyes and waved feebly.

With an air of cool indifference Pam turned away from the girl and headed indoors.

It wasn't until she stepped inside and scanned the empty house that Pam allowed scarlet tears to fall. Grief-stricken, she sank against the door and into an immeasurable void.

* * *

Heya, I was running out earlier so I never got to add a note to you guys. I hope you enjoyed reading this even with the sus ending. I didn't plan on leaving it off that way, but listening to Blue Mitchell's rendition of "Alone, Alone And Alone" didn't help. I know the season is sucking so I'll have something more...uh, not miserable for you as soon as I can. Thanks to everyone who took time to review and provide feedback or just asked for updates :) They're always fun to read and without that I'd probably put off finishing forever and ever. Let me know what you think about this turnout or what you're hoping for next!


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